


The First Snowfall

by churchkey



Category: Band of Brothers (TV 2001)
Genre: AU, Animal Death, Christmas, Domestic Sap, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, M/M, Melancholy fluff, Post-War, but it's in the past, farm life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-12 14:49:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/churchkey/pseuds/churchkey
Summary: Dick and Lew uphold a tradition.
Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters
Comments: 12
Kudos: 37





	The First Snowfall

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anthrobrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anthrobrat/gifts).



> Based on ["The First Snowfall"](https://poets.org/poem/first-snowfall) by James Russell Lowell. I just really love the theme of God (or whatever) working through the beauty of nature to heal and comfort us in our grief, so I wrote this little thing about the guys dealing with the loss of their beloved dog.
> 
> Also, credit for the beautiful and pure Lewis Nixon Ribbon head cannon goes to Laura. I couldn't not put that in here.

The snow began in the gloaming. 

Dick was at the sink washing dishes. One of his rolled shirtsleeves kept slipping down his arm and into the water and he tried to nudge the damp fabric back up his arm with his forehead, going still when he saw the fat, downy flakes drifting lazily through the dim twilight to land gently in the grass. For a moment he just watched, sometimes tracing the path of one flake as it loped and twirled around the others, and sometimes trying to take it all in at once, the bare branches and dark evergreen boughs and stubbled furrows of the fields beyond the shelterbelt of lilac bushes, all of their brittle edges softened by the silent falling of the snow.

“Lew?” He called over his shoulder, receiving only a tired grunt from the living room in reply. “Look out the window, honey.” 

They’d had a brown Christmas again this year, which inspired mixed feelings in both of them. Lew hated driving in snow but would not have been crushed to have had an excuse to stay home rather than make the trip to Lancaster. Home, with his comfy chair by the fireplace and his records and his spy novels. Letting his beard grow ragged, staying in his pajamas until noon. Telling Dick he had a special present for him, and Dick always playing along, slowly unzipping his fly like he was opening a gift and reaching inside to find a ribbon tied around Lew’s cock. They had a lot more sex during the Christmasses they stayed home; indeed, the holiday rather revolved around it, as they indulged each others’ fantasies and took their sweet time. That, more than anything else, was the gift of bad weather. Just time alone together, infinitely precious and worth drawing out for as long as they could. 

Dick was more pragmatic about it all, thinking of the pipes that wouldn’t freeze and the snowblower that wouldn’t break down on him and all the other things he wouldn’t have to worry about if they had a mild winter. On the other hand, it just didn’t feel like Christmas without snow, and he found himself longing for the storms of his childhood, the drifts that piled to the eaves, the blasts of icy wind that scoured the shingles smooth and snuck through the cracks in the door. One year it had been so cold that they called off school for the entire month of February. The school board had figured it would just be easier to tack on another month at the end of the year rather than take their chances with the ancient boiler. 

So even though Christmas was over now, Dick was happy to look out his kitchen window and see the chaotic flurry of white transforming a landscape that, just hours ago, had seemed so dead and lifeless. It made him feel like those days of bundling himself in a snowsuit and trekking out with the other boys, their sleds slicing clean, sharp lines in the fresh snow, were not as far away as they usually seemed. 

And there was another reason. 

“Think it’s a sign?” Lew’s voice was gravelly, still waking up as he shuffled across the linoleum with a red wool blanket draped around his shoulders. He stood next to Dick at the sink, so close that Dick could feel the sleepy warmth of his body through his shirt. 

“Could be.” 

The wind kicked up and blew a shower of snow from the roof, momentarily obscuring their view. Dick shook the suds off of his hands and reached around Lew’s back for the dishtowel. He studied Lew’s profile as he dried his hands, his eyes tracing a line from the disheveled hair to the faint worry lines around his eyes to the slight frown on his mouth. 

“What do you think?” 

Lew kept looking out the window, beyond the lilac bushes to a pile of stones stacked against the split-rail fence marking the edge of the field.

“Yeah.” He turned his head to look at Dick and pulled the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I think it’s a sign.”

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time they were tromping across the yard in their snow boots, their collars turned up against the wind. The flakes were so thick and heavy that Dick could practically hear them hitting the ground, thousands of tiny wind chimes striking against each other in a delicate, ethereal symphony. In his gloved hand, he held a loop of frayed rope attached to the same sled he’d ridden as a boy, flying face-first down Zook’s Hill and praying he’d come to a stop before reaching the creek at the bottom. Behind him, the metal runners made a dry swishing sound as he dragged the sled across the snow, the mason jars in the milk crate tinkling brightly as they clinked against each other on every pull. 

Lew was several steps ahead of him, walking with purpose. Though a distance of only six feet separated them, it was snowing so hard that at times Dick could only see the dark contour of his shoulders hunched against the cold, and he had an urge to call out to him, to make him stop before he wandered too far in the wrong direction and lost himself in the blind oblivion of the empty fields. 

It had been snowing just like this on that bleak afternoon three Decembers ago. Dick remembered the way the snowflakes hit the windshield like pregnant raindrops, smearing the glass and melting into thick slush on the hood. It had seemed crazy at the time, but he’d taken the snow as a sign then too; there was just something spiritual in the air, like heaven had dipped so close to the earth that little pieces of it had scraped off its belly to catch in their hair and eyelashes and mist their cheekbones in a radiant dewy luster. Now, every time they got their first snow, he and Lew walked out in it together, out to the edge of the field to reflect and to remember.

When they reached the fence, Lew dropped to his knees and used his hand to brush the snow off of a wide, flat rock at the bottom of the pile. Dick pulled the sled up next to him and took the mason jars from the crate. Inside of each was a squat white votive candle. Lew dug a lighter out of his pocket and held his other hand out for the first jar. He flicked the striker and the flames danced to life, glinting off the glass as he placed both jars carefully on either side of the rock. Then he reached into the crate and took out several more small things, lining them up end to end between the candles in solemn silence. 

The sole of an old slipper, gnawed beyond recognition. The hock from this year’s Christmas ham. A narrow leather collar, cracked and worn with use. 

Lew turned his head and looked up at Dick. “You want to start?” 

“No.” Dick took a step closer and laid his hand gently on Lew’s shoulder. “No, you go ahead.” 

Lew sat back on his heels and cleared his throat. “You were a good girl.” His voice fell to a shaky whisper on the last two words. He swallowed and took a deep breath in and out of his nose. “We miss you every day.” 

Dick thought there might be more, but Lew kept quiet after that, just rubbed his gloved palm meditatively over the snowy ground at the foot of the makeshift grave marker. They’d had a hell of a time digging the hole, first clearing away the foot of snow that had fallen while they were at the vet’s and then hacking for nearly an hour at the frozen dirt with garden spades. Lew broke the handle off of his and they still hadn’t gotten it repaired. As far as Dick knew, it was still in the garage with the other garden tools, propped up between two studs in the back wall like some sacred relic of a lost and forgotten king. 

Another quiet minute passed, and then Lew rose to stand beside Dick. He clapped his hands together to brush the snow off of his gloves but the sound died in the dense air that seemed to glow around them like milky tea, as though the storm had gathered up all the little lights of the country and mixed them together, spreading them out in a soft haze just bright enough for everyone to find their way back home. 

Lew looked at Dick. “You want to do your thing now?” 

Dick nodded and folded the stiff fingers of his gloves over the backs of his hands. As he bowed his head, he saw Lew drop his back between his shoulders, closing his eyes and letting the snow fall softly on his face. 

Dick’s memories of that day were spotty, like an overexposed photograph. Parts of it were sharp and clear. The weak scent of lemon trying and failing to cover up the sting of ammonia. The crackle of the paper as Lew had set her feeble body on the exam table. Other moments he could only see as a faint blur, all their lines and details fading to white. He couldn’t remember what exactly the vet had said, whether he and Lew had needed a moment to discuss it or if they’d just seen it in each other’s eyes, the silent understanding that letting her go on like that wasn’t right, that she was suffering. It was time.

He did remember that last Christmas. They’d brought her along to Lancaster rather than leave her with the neighbors, and the look Lew had given Dick’s mother as she’d clucked and tutted over the puddle on the floor, practically daring her to malign his beloved old girl, was icy enough to freeze the eggnog in her crystal punch cup. Lew seemed to spend that Christmas going back and forth between pretending that she was fine, just a little tired maybe, and taking tentative steps toward accepting the inevitable. They’d gone straight to the vet’s office when they got back to town, not even stopping by the house first, and Dick had always regretted that a little. Perhaps it wouldn’t have made a difference anyway, but he wished they would have taken the time to lay her down in her favorite spot by the radiator one more time, to give her one last feeling of home.

They’d given them a box to carry her home in, but Lew had just stared at it like the mere suggestion deeply offended him. Dick drove as Lew held her in his lap, cuddling her lifeless body like a sleeping child. 

That was how she'd looked, like she’d just fallen asleep. That was how Dick wanted to remember her. Curled into a snug little heap on the corner of the sofa or stretched out long across the cool hardwood floor on a hot summer day. Heavy chin resting on the arm of Lew’s chair or sprawled between his legs and Lew’s under the covers after they’d given up trying to kick her out of bed. The perfect, unbroken peace of a dog’s sleep. 

“Lord, as we looked after her while she was here with us, we pray that You watch over our Teddy now. May she find the comfort we once gave to her in Your loving embrace.”

Beside him, Dick heard Lew sniffle. He swallowed around the tightness in his own throat. 

“As we remember her, we pray that we may learn to love each other more dearly. That we may care for all of Your creatures, great and small, as we protected her. That her memory may bless our lives with love forever.” 

“And let her run wherever she wants,” Lew added. “Don’t keep her out of the best parts of Heaven just because she’s a dog.” 

Dick bit the inside of his cheek. Only Lew could talk to God like He was an unreliable babysitter. 

“Lord, we pray all of this -”

“And give her cheese,” Lew interrupted again. “As much as she likes. It can’t make her sick now.” 

Dick waited a moment. He opened his eyes and looked sideways at Lew. “You finished?” 

Lew just gave him a brief nod, his eyes on the makeshift grave marker. Dick said the last words quickly, one hurried, mumbled stream.

“ - inJesus’nameAmen.” 

“Amen,” Lew echoed quietly. 

Dick moved the crate off of the sled and sat down on the hard wooden slats, looking up at Lew as he patted the empty space next to him. Stiffly, like the cold had seeped into his blood, slowing everything down, Lew lowered himself to sit beside Dick. The quiet of the evening descended around them like a soft cloud, so thick that Dick thought he might be able to slice through it with the bony edge of his hand. Instead, he reached into the crate and pulled out two insulated plastic mugs by their square handles, handing both to Lew. Then he brought out a thermos and bit the finger of his glove to pull his hand free, the vacuum seal of the cap making a little ‘pop’ as he unscrewed it. Carefully, he poured the hot liquid into the mugs. 

Lew raised his mug to his lips but didn’t drink, just let the steam waft up against his face as he looked at the pile of rocks. 

“It’s really coming down now,” Dick said. “We’ll have to get an early start tomorrow.” 

Lew nodded, but Dick got the feeling he was only half-listening. He stretched his legs out in the snow, crossing them at his ankles, and leaned his body against Lew’s. “What are you thinking about?”

Lew smiled sadly and exhaled a breath through his nose. “Just Teddy. Remember how much she loved the snow?”

“Yeah.” Dick nodded and chuckled softly, thinking of how playful she became in the wintertime, even in her sunset years, how she’d leap and bow and try to catch it between her paws, like the snow was a giant, shapeless playmate. 

“That first year?” Lew continued. He was smiling broader now, his chest rumbling in quiet laughter. “Remember how she barked at it? She didn’t know what the hell was going on.” 

“Remember how it froze in little hunks between her toes?” Dick said. “And how she’d lie down on the kitchen floor and dig them out with her teeth?” 

Lew shook his head. “Such a mess.” His voice was warm with affection, and it was clear that he’d give anything to go back to the days when she made a mess of their floor. He went quiet then as more memories floated around in his mind like laundry drying in the breeze. He took a sip from his mug and coughed, grimacing at Dick as he wiped his mouth with the back of his glove. 

Dick frowned. “No good?” 

“No, it’s just -” Lew coughed again, harder. “I was expecting coffee.” Dick watched his jaw flex as he dragged his tongue across the roof of his mouth and looked into his cocoa like it might be toxic. 

“Oh,” Dick breathed a laugh. “Just too sweet.” 

“It’s okay. I know just what it needs.” Lew pulled off his gloves and reached into his pocket for a crumpled pack of cigarettes, shaking it until the filter end of one rose high enough for him to catch it between his lips. He handed his mug to Dick for a moment as he ducked his head and cupped his hands around his mouth to light it. Finally, he took a deep drag and blew the smoke out again on a long, satisfied exhale. He looked at Dick and smiled. 

“Better?” Dick handed Lew his mug back. Lew shrugged one shoulder and tilted his head to the side, and then everything went still again. Lew smoked contemplatively and Dick quietly sipped his cocoa, both sinking deeper within the warm pools of their own memories, their cheeks stung red from the cold and asses going slowly numb on the hard wooden slats of the sled. 

“That was a nice prayer,” Lew said after a while. He was looking down into his mug again, and Dick could see tears lining the rims of his eyes.

“Thanks,” he said simply. “I’ve had a few years to workshop it.” 

The corner of Lew’s mouth rose in a brief, half-hearted smile. A tear slipped down his cheek. Dick set his mug down in the snow, twisting it into a little well so it wouldn’t tip over. Then he wrapped his arm around Lew, tasting salt as he pressed his warm mouth to the corner of his eye. 

“Why do I still miss her so much?” Lew's voice was thin and husky. 

“Because you loved her so much.” 

Lew wiped his eyes with the heel of the hand holding the cigarette. “She was just a dog,” he mumbled in frustration, sounding like he was trying very hard to convince himself of something he knew wasn’t true. 

“No she wasn’t,” Dick said. “She was family.” 

Family. Before Lew, Dick never even would have considered it. When they started kicking around the idea of buying a farm, he’d joked about how they could never raise livestock because Lew would get too attached. Lew had laughed along, but they both knew that the jokes had a grain of truth in them, and after they’d brought Teddy home and Dick had gotten a close look at the deep well of tenderness and patience and selflessness within him, he never made fun of Lew again. How could he, when Lew had always loved him in the same way? Radically, recklessly, heedless of the warnings or consequences. Knowing that it will only hurt more when the one you love has to leave someday, and doing it anyway. Loving like that took courage that Dick could hardly fathom. But he was getting better at it every day. 

Lew turned his head to brush his forehead against Dick’s cheek. Dick gave his shoulder a few bracing slaps and then they both sat up a little straighter, sobered by the wind, which had turned suddenly colder. 

“Better put another blanket on the bed tonight,” Dick said. 

“I’ll keep you warm.” Lew winked as he took one last drag on his cigarette and flicked it away into the snow. 

Dick tucked his chin and looked coyly up at Lew from under his brow. His voice dropped to a sweet murmur. “Yeah? You want to…” 

“Well. Now that you say that.” Lew leaned in close and brushed his lips softly against Dick’s. “I do have one more present for you.” 

“Is it your penis?”

“Goddammit. How did you know that? Did you peek?”

Dick laughed, and the sound was stronger and louder than the howling of the storm. Lew just looked at him, his eyes wide in expectation. 

“Richard?” 

“I may have peeked.” 

“Some Christmas spirit you have,” Lew muttered as he stuffed his hands back into his gloves and rose to stand. “Won’t even let me surprise you.” 

Dick looked up at the front of his pants, a careful uncertainty coming into his voice. 

“You haven’t had a ribbon on that thing this whole time, have you?” 

“Well I’m sure as hell not about to whip it out so you can see!” Lew dumped the cold dregs of cocoa in the snow and began packing up the crate. “And if you think I’m pulling you back to the house on that sled, you’re crazy.” He held out his hand. Dick took it, and with one quick tug, pulled himself to his feet. 

They walked side by side back toward the soft yellow light of the kitchen window, every once in a while looking behind them at the tiny flames still flickering in the darkness.


End file.
